


Sometime Guardian Angel

by ilcuoreardendo



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canonical Character Death, Episode: s05e10 Abandon All Hope..., F/M, Friends to Lovers, Friendship/Love, Guardian Angel Balthazar, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-18
Updated: 2014-12-18
Packaged: 2018-03-02 00:28:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2793161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ilcuoreardendo/pseuds/ilcuoreardendo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i> Balthazar has never been known for his promptness, even in Heaven. He’d shown up late for more than one roll call and almost missed several of the skirmishes during Lucifer’s initial rebellion. But where it had really mattered, he’d been there. …Sometimes. All right. He’d disappointed enough of his brethren that he was pretty sure they were grateful when he “died” during those last eras of the war.</i>
</p><p> </p><p>  <i>But he’d been there for <b>her</b>.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Sometime Guardian Angel

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written and posted at my Tumblr. 
> 
> This springboards off my [**_Balthazar headcanon_**](http://ilcuoreardendo-fic.tumblr.com/post/100035004605/spn-balthzar-headcanon). 
> 
> It skews from canon in Season 5, Abandon All Hope.

* * *

 

Balthazar has never been known for his promptness, even in Heaven. He’d shown up late for more than one roll call and almost missed several of the skirmishes during Lucifer’s initial rebellion. But where it had really mattered, he’d been there. …Sometimes. All right. He’d disappointed enough of his brethren that he was pretty sure they were grateful when he “died” during those last eras of the war.

But he’d been there for  _her_. From the time she was chubby cheeked and wearing pigtails and asking him to tell her father she loved him, to the moment she struck out on her own as a hunter. Perhaps not as often as he would have liked and maybe not always as visible as she would’ve preferred (he’d played the stereotypical guardian angel role more than once). But he’d always come when she called.

Except this time. She’d called. He’d been wrapped up in a deal with a hydra (wrapped up being the operative word). And now here he was, sifting through the rubble of a hardware store in a town that his long estranged brother had torn the humanity from.

He can still smell Lucifer here, beneath the lingering miasma of sulfur, of ashes, of human suffering. That unforgettable contrast of scents: celestial fire and cold, clear ice.

Balthazar parts another layer of stone and finds Ellen, her body and arms wrapped tightly around Jo. Their skin is blackened, limbs broken, ligaments torn. And Jo. The work of the hellhounds is unmistakable. She was dead before the explosion that took her mother.

He can fix this.

                                                                            
  


It takes all of his tricks and he nearly sets off every alarm in Heaven with the baggage of the soul he carries back with him, but then the hard part is over. Now, it’s simply a matter of remaking what once was, of knitting together long, lean muscles, healing flesh, re-growing hair and pushing that bright, writhing bundle of energy back into its body.

Jo’s first breath is deep and, for a moment, she appears to be sleeping. Then her eyes fly open. Dark and damp and flicking around wildly before lighting on Balthazar. He touches her forehead with his fingertips, sees the exact moment she remembers seeing him appear in the Heavenly-version of the Roadhouse, and watches the calm flow through her, the muscles of her body release and relax.

Suffice it to say, the punch comes out of nowhere.

It hurts her more than Balthazar.

“Joanna, I just fixed that hand.”

“You fucker!” She’s up now, scrambling through the debris, coming at him like she always has whenever he’s done something to piss her off. “Where were you? I  _called_ for you.”

“I know.” And there must be something in his voice, or in his face that gives him away. He doubts anyone else would hear it, see it. But Jo always has been too good at reading him.

“I suppose you have a good excuse.”

Balthazar only wishes. He says nothing. And after a moment, Jo nods, turns away, looking back toward the rubble.

Before Balthazar had begun his work on Jo, he had taken a moment with Ellen. She looks like she’s sleeping. Or she would, if it wasn’t for the broken building beneath her, the smoke still rising into the air.

“I can’t believe she didn’t want to come back.”

“I imagine she’s glad to be with your father. It’s a long life lived without those you love.”

“When did you get so philosophical?”

“You should hear me after a few dozen truly strong drinks.” 

“I have. You didn’t make much sense.” 

“That’s philosophy for you.”

Jo’s mouth twitches. “I should bury her.”

“I’ll take you wherever you wish to go.”

Jo nods, bites her lip and a little pinched gasp of air escapes her.

“Oh, Jo.”

“It’s stupid, isn’t it?” Jo says, swiping at her wet eyes. “To cry over her. She’s  _fine_. She’s happy. Heaven exists and she’s there, with dad. Yippee.” She swirls her forefinger through the air.

“Should I—“ Balthazar steps closer. “Should I not—“

“No,” Jo says. “Don’t think that. I want to be here.” She wraps her fingers around the hand Balthazar was about to put on her shoulder. “But she’s not here. And that hurts. And even though I know she’s fine, it’s still gonna hurt… I think it’s just the way things work.”

They stand in silence for the space of several human heartbeats before Jo turns to him. “Mom took me to Zion National Park once. She really loved it. That’s where I’d like to take her.”

“Your wish,” Balthazar says, bending to scoop Ellen’s body into his arms. “My command.”

Jo folds her hand through the triangle of his arm and in the blink of an eye, the gust of an ephemeral wind, they leave the dead town behind.  

They reappear atop a butte in the heart of Zion. Jo turns her face toward the setting sun, tilts her head back, her hair catching on the breeze, and breathes deep.

Balthazar stands near, stays quiet, knowing that she’s letting go of the memory of blood, of pain, of death.

When Jo’s ready, together, they will bury Ellen’s body, return her physical form to the earth.

Then Balthazar will take Jo wherever she needs to go to work out her next step.

And he’ll stay with her when she takes it. 


End file.
